


show me how to be whole again

by merlypops



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Spoilers for The Ruins Of Gorlan and The Burning Bridge, Willace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: 'He couldn’t stand to watch this; couldn’t watch the moment when Horace was cut down like something so worthless but… god, Will owed it to him to stay here and see this through. He couldn’t leave Horace alone; not now… not when there was something burning red-hot in his chest at the sight of his best friend’s brave face… something too painful to name.When Horace simply spread his arms like he was embracing the end, Will thought it might be love.'
  Will escapes from the Skandians in time to see Horace challenge Morgarath.
Based on “Castle Of Glass” by Linkin Park.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unholy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unholy/gifts).



> because Marlon is an angel and she showed me this series, and I love her so much for that.
> 
> I hope you guys will enjoy this! I've never written anything for this fandom before!

Will watched the battle unfolding helplessly.

He and Evanlyn had slipped away from the Skandians in the chaos of the swarming Wargals. The blonde girl was hiding in the undergrowth at the foot of the rocky slopes leading up into Three Steps Pass and hissing at Will to come closer; to hide with her where it was _safe_ but… but how could Will hide when Horace was out there somewhere, probably terrified out of his wits or maybe even _injured_?

“Will!” Evanlyn cried desperately but Will barely heard her, simply gesturing for her to stay where she was as he drifted down towards the grassy plains where the fighting was taking place between the battling armies. His mottled green-and-brown cloak fluttered behind him and, within twenty metres, Evanlyn couldn’t make him out amongst the long swaying grass and dried foliage that the soldiers were trampling through.

Will’s heart was in his throat as he got his first taste of battle. For some reason, he’d never imagined the _sound_ of it before; the screams and sobbing, and the cry for parents or friends… for people the fallen soldiers would never see again.

Will’s panic was poorly-suppressed but he struggled to remember all of Halt’s training; tried to keep his breathing calm as his eyes kept moving restlessly, never sticking in one place too long because that was the best way to become distracted and make himself a target.

Will ducked under a mace, side-stepped a Wargal, and threw himself under a Skandian's swinging axe as his clever brown eyes finally settled on the raised knoll where his mentor Halt was standing with King Duncan, Sir Rodney, and a number of the Barons.

Perhaps they would know where Horace was, Will thought desperately. Perhaps Sir Rodney would be able to tell him and Will would know without a doubt that his best friend was safe… that Horace hadn’t been _lost_ -

And then everything around him seemed to stop.

The fighters had all frozen and Will looked around wildly for the cause, his heart rising into his throat when he saw the white flag waving from the Dark Lord Morgarath’s army. That must mean the Lord of Rain and Night wanted a _truce_ but… Will couldn’t imagine why.

He was too far away to hear the words spoken as Morgarath headed directly towards where Duncan and Halt were waiting. He threw a gauntlet down and, from the stunned ripple of conversation that abruptly followed, Will realised that Halt had been challenged to fight and Duncan had expressly forbidden it, and beside them…

 **Horace**.

Will was frantic as he struggled between the soldiers now, struggling to keep his movements calm and controlled so that he wouldn’t draw the eye, even as he pushed his way through the blood and mud, his eyes locked on where his best friend had just straightened up.

The Ranger’s apprentice was just close enough to hear their words now and his heart stopped beating in his chest when he heard the young knight-in-training challenging Morgarath to single combat, throwing a gauntlet hard into the former Baron’s face.

Every eye on the battlefield was locked on Horace in stunned disbelief, taking in his youthful mud-spattered face and the slim cavalry sword he was holding carefully in one gloved hand. Morgarath’s laugh was high and unpleasant from the back of his inky black horse but his answer was clear, and Will’s knees almost gave way beneath him when Morgarath accepted the challenge.

“No,” Will whispered, his eyes prickling with tears as he watched Horace mounting his bay-coloured Battlehorse Kicker on shaking legs. “No, no, no. Horace, _please_. No!”

Somehow, Halt’s eyes found Will’s across the field and the abject anguish drowning out the relief in them shook Will to the core. He’d never seen his mentor look so hopeless before; it seemed like he’d lost all hope that Horace might even have a _chance_ of survival.

Horace squared his jaw as he faced off against Morgarath and, when they both began to gallop towards each other, everything in Will’s world fell away until all that was left was the fierce determination colouring Horace’s ashen face.

Will heard the terrible clang of Morgarath’s broadsword smashing into Horace’s shield from there and the dent in the metal was terrible; Will didn’t think it could survive another strike like that and he felt the nausea twisting in his stomach terribly. Horace was one of the best warriors Will knew, albeit largely untrained and operating mainly on natural instinct, and Morgarath was a trained fighter.

Will didn’t share everyone else’s view though. He might have been terrified for his best friend - absolutely _petrified_ \- but he knew Horace; knew he must have something up his sleeve. There was no _way_ the boy would be content to simply ride at Morgarath until his shield was taken from him, until he lost his grip on his sword, until the former Baron mowed him down and cleaved him apart -

Horace lost his grip on his broken shield beneath another brutal strike and Will’s broken cry of Horace’s name was torn from him before he could clap his hands tightly over his mouth. His best friend didn’t know Will had been able to escape and the last thing the apprentice Ranger wanted to do now was distract him; even a split-second might be enough to kill Horace and Will knew he’d never forgive himself if that happened.

The horses went back in for another gallop and Will flinched when he heard the clang of metal as Morgarath’s broadsword swung down viciously against Horace’s sword, shattering the weapon in two and leaving the pale-faced boy gripping the hilt tightly, the blade broken so that only a jagged spike of metal remained. He was completely defenceless.

Morgarath’s horse cantered away and Will watched through hollow eyes as Horace… dismounted from his horse?

Will stared in horrified disbelief as Horace smacked Kicker on the rump, sending the startled Battlehorse trotting off in the direction of a grim-faced Sir Rodney, out of harm’s way.

Morgarath spun round to face Horace and Will could almost imagine the evil Lord’s smile from here; he already thought he’d won and, privately, Will wondered if perhaps he agreed with him.

He couldn’t stand to watch this; couldn’t watch the moment when Horace was cut down like something so worthless but… god, Will owed it to him to stay here and see this through. He couldn’t leave Horace alone; not now… not when there was something burning red-hot in his chest at the sight of his best friend’s brave face… something too painful to name.

When Horace simply spread his arms like he was embracing the end, Will thought it might be love.

Morgarath squeezed his knees against the dark horse’s ribs and the beast began to charge towards Horace, its dark eyes burning with fire as the Lord of Rain and Night leant closer over its back. His broadsword was raised as he prepared to deliver a killing stroke and a savage cry tore out of his throat as the knight-in-training seemed content to simply watch him.

At the last second, Horace moved… but it wasn’t to leap out of the way. He moved _closer_ instead, throwing himself under the Battlehorse’s thundering hooves, and the three of them went down in a cloud of dust that hid everything from sight.

Will’s cry of horror was strangled as, around him, the soldiers shouted out in alarm. Horace’s actions had been unorthodox at best and suicidal at worst, and Will’s legs felt wobbly as he pushed his way through the crowd, closer and closer to where the duel had been taking place.

There was a sudden gasp of shock from the surrounding soldiers and Will squinted, narrowing his dark tear-filled eyes and clutching his heart in shock when he saw a small dark-haired figure pushing himself shakily from the mud.

“Horace!” Will’s face lit up when he saw the taller boy looking around wildly and the smile that spread across Horace’s face at the sight of his best friend lingering among the soldiers made Will’s heart melt in his chest.

Will saw Horace’s lips form his name, saw the taller boy limp a step towards him before faltering, a look of pain saturating his features. Will felt sick when he realised that Horace must have been badly hurt when the Battlehorse had collided with him and the thought had barely crossed his mind when a dark figure rose from the dust behind him.

Will’s words died in his throat as Morgarath began to stalk towards his best friend but he pointed wildly and realised, when Horace gave him the faintest ghost of a smile, that the taller boy had _wanted_ this to happen.

He must have realised all along that Morgarath - now absolutely livid - had only been winded by the fall. He was drawing him out into the open.

Will didn’t know what Horace was planning though; the boy’s broken sword was still clutched in his hand and the only other weapon he had was a dagger sheathed at his hip which he reached for now.

Morgarath raised the broadsword for an overhead stroke as he approached the knight-in-training and Horace pivoted at the last second, crossing the dagger and his broken sword together as he thrust them up to meet Morgarath’s sword. Will recognised the Double Knife Defence that Halt’s former apprentice Gilan had taught them in Celtica with a lump in his throat but he couldn’t tear his eyes away as Morgarath’s sword simply stopped, jarring his arm so painfully that his grip on the weapon loosened fractionally.

That was all Horace needed.

With a twist of his wrist and a gasp of pain, the boy sent the dagger he’d been holding plunging deep into Morgarath’s heart, killing him stone dead.

The silence that stretched across the plains then was deafening but, as Morgarath collapsed with Horace’s dagger buried in his chest, the cheers of the soldiers began to swell as Morgarath’s army of Wargals fled, no longer under his control.

The cheering was deafening now and, all around him, men were embracing and shouting to each other, and there were smiles everywhere.

Horace looked around for his best friend weakly, the agony on his face suddenly so much more intense now that he wasn’t struggling to hold on, and Will felt cold inside as the tears started to leak down his cheeks.

When Horace slumped down unconscious onto the blood-soaked grass, Will’s heart broke for him.

*

The fields were rapidly emptying of soldiers now. The men had drifted back towards their camps and the injured had been carried to the medical tents running along the edge of the forest.

The last few hours since the battle had ended had been exhausting and painful for Will. He had learnt Evanlyn’s true identify - he could scarcely believe that she was the Princess Cassandra - and Halt had embraced Will so tightly that the apprentice had lost some feeling in his arms.

It didn’t make him feel better though. Nothing did.

He wanted to see Horace - _needed_ to with a pain that took his breath away - but nobody would let him into the medical tents. They said it would be too much; that Horace was too badly injured for visitors, like that would persuade Will _not_ to fight to see his best friend.

In the end, it was King Duncan who insisted that Will be allowed to go inside.

He’d come over to the Ranger and his apprentice to thank them for everything they’d done and, when he’d seen the deeply unhappy look on the boy’s face, he’d walked Will across the parched grass himself to insist that the small boy was granted entry.

It was dark in the tent and the smell made Will wrinkle his nose, even as his heart tried to pound its way right out of his ribcage. Duncan gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he departed and Will peered through the darkness, shuddering at the various immobile forms lying slumped on the makeshift beds before his eyes settled on a familiar head of messy dark hair resting on a thin pillow nearby.

Will weaved between the beds carefully, his breath tearing out of him too loudly as he struggled to keep his anxiety under check. Several healers gave him curious looks but they’d seen the King accompanying him here; they knew better than to argue with him.

Will almost cried when he came to a hesitant stop at his best friend’s bedside because Horace’s eyes were shut and he wasn’t moving. Will sank down onto his knees beside the bed, letting out a ragged sigh that barely hid the sob that wanted to escape him as he took Horace’s limp hand gently in his own. He pressed a soft kiss to the taller boy’s bruised knuckles and the contented hum that escaped Horace when he felt Will’s lips made the apprentice Ranger’s cheeks flame with blood.

“Are you okay?” Horace croaked, his voice weak as his eyes opened a tiny bit, the soft green glinting between his tear-wet lashes.

“You idiot,” Will said wetly, wiping his dark eyes hard with his fist as his hand settled on Horace’s muscular shoulder, simply holding on tightly in an effort to convince himself that he hadn’t lost him. “You _idiot_! You could have died! I could have lost you! You could have been killed right then and -”

“But I wasn’t,” Horace said quietly.

If he’d said it in a smug tone, Will might have wanted to hit him. Instead, the knight-in-training simply looked dazed and exhausted. To him, Will realised with a dull jolt of shock, this hadn’t been about winning glory or being a hero at all. Horace had simply been doing his duty and, abruptly, all of Will’s terrified anger bled away.

Horace pushed himself painfully into a sitting position, letting out a low groan of pain as he gestured for Will to sit on the bed beside him. The smaller boy was trembling as he looked at his injured best friend with tears in his eyes but Horace seemed content to simply look at him, drinking in Will’s coffee-coloured eyes and the wild mass of dark hair that fell in a tangle over his forehead.

“Will,” Horace said imploringly and then the smaller boy was falling into his arms, melting into the hug, and Horace was stroking his hair as a sob tore out of the apprentice Ranger. Will clung to him tightly, burying his face in the taller boy’s neck because… god, Will hadn’t _lost_ him; his best friend was still here, smelling of sweat and blood and metal and _Horace_ , and Will was never going to let him go.

Never.

Horace’s lips bumped clumsily against Will’s when they finally drew back and the smaller boy gasped out a desperate sob, fingers winding through the taller boy’s messy curls as he anchored him there, where Will would know without a doubt that his best friend was safe.

“I love you,” Will babbled mindlessly when Horace drew back to breathe, his forehead falling against the smaller boy’s as he clutched at his ribs with a grimace on his face. “I love you so much. Oh my god, Horace, I thought I’d lost you. I love you. I _love_ you!”

Horace watched Will with mild surprise before a slow smile spread across his face like the sunrise.

“I love you too, Will,” he said simply, slumping back down onto the mattress with a soft groan of pain, although the smile never faded from his face. “I think I always have done.”

Will let out a happy sound then as he leant forwards to brush his lips lightly against the taller boy’s. Unfortunately, that was the moment one of the healers happened to turn around and see them.

“That’s enough!” the old woman said firmly, smacking Will lightly around the head with a roll of bandages as he scrambled up with a surprised bark of laughter. “Don’t excite him! Get out of here, boy! Leave him be!”

Will ducked away and scurried out of the tent but he paused at the exit, grinning at his best friend as he flattened his unruly hair shyly. Horace smiled crookedly back at him, soft eyes sparkling in the darkness as he gave Will a lazy wave.

The Ranger's apprentice smiled with relief as he stepped back out into the fresh air of an early evening.

Perhaps everything would work out fine after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought by leaving comments and kudos <3


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